


Restraint

by SweetestHoney



Series: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Coercion, I have no control over my brain, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sensory Deprivation, Sorry Not Sorry, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Spider-Man: Homecoming Spoilers, Spoilers for Endgame, Touch-Starved, Touching, non-con, this is pretty dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 15:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19406329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetestHoney/pseuds/SweetestHoney
Summary: What if Peter hadn't won at the end of Far From Home? What if he was captured and taken prisoner and held in an unending loop of hologram torture? Not trusting anything around him, held down, and tortured by visions of everyone he loves dying. When Mysterio comes to see him personally, Peter is desperate for any kind of human touch to ground him and let him know what's real and what isn't. Seriously dark, fairly non-con because I have a serious problem with wanting to torture every character I love, not for the faint of heart.





	Restraint

**Author's Note:**

> Between Jake Gyllenhaal insisting that he and Tom Holland have a romance and not a bromance and the fact that the movie was a total (wonderful, definitely wonderful but still) mindfuck, this is what my twisted brain came up with. 
> 
> I think this is the first time I've been motivated to finish writing something that wasn't for school in the better part of ten years. I don't know how to feel about the fact that this is what it ended up being.

Peter stopped trying to tell reality from fiction a while ago. At this point, it was impossible to know how much time had passed – he fell asleep and woke to his face shaved, hair trimmed, so it was impossible to tell how much grew. 

Once, he could have used his ‘Peter tingle’ to tell the difference between the holograms and the real world, but was long past that now - too out of it with fear and sleep deprivation and hunger. He got food and water, but half the time it wasn’t real so after a while he decide to only eat when he had to to stay alive. 

_I don’t even know why I bother anymore, it’s not like he left anyone I know alive.  
_

Peter watched Mysterio kill everyone he knew in a hundred different ways. He knew they were dead, one way or another.

His wrists and ankles ached. They were strapped down so tightly that even with his enhanced strength he couldn’t break the restraints. The only time he got any freedom of movement whatsoever was to eat, and even then it was only one arm. 

The next time the man appeared out of the swirling mists, Peter barely had the strength to turn his head, nodding lazily at the figure cutting a profile through the darkness.

“Hello, Peter.” He groaned, low in his throat, although it wouldn’t stop the man. “I’ve been thinking about you recently. Thinking that you might want something new, something exciting.” Peter managed a full shake of his head.

_No. Please, no._

But Mysterio wasn’t listening, or more accurately, he didn’t care. “Now, Peter, is that any way to treat your host? You’re a guest, aren’t you? Be polite.” Mysterio’s hand gripped his chin, turning his head sharply to make eye contact with the man. Peter blinked slowly, letting his eyes slide past Mysterio, fixated on the middle distance in the mist.

That brief touch, while not gentle, grounded him, bringing him back to himself more than he had been in a while. Mysterio was there, touching him. The straps around his wrists and ankles were all he had to ground him to the present for so long that being touched woke him out of his stupor. 

The drones were there, projecting the images that trapped him. He heard the high-pitched whine of the motors but he couldn't tell where they were, only that there were a lot around him.

Mysterio’s hands on his face brought him back from his musings, and he drew back to make eye contact with the man. That earned him a grin and a soft hand through his hair. Peter pushed up into the touch, starved for physical affection and hating himself for needing it. 

“Good boy. Look at me, that’s it. You’re strong Peter, much stronger than anyone realized. I figured you would have given up by now, but you’re still thinking, aren’t you? Still trying to save your friends?” Peter didn’t answer, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes even as he didn’t pull away from the hand still fisted in his hair. It tugged gently, not pulling hard enough to direct his head, a gentle pressure.

“I know, I know. It hurts. Believe me, it hurts me to see you like this.” He sounded like he meant it, too, although Peter knew the man was as skilled at lying as he was at everything else. “But Peter, there’s something I want from you.” Peter's eyes opened, and he searched out the other man’s, trying to see into him.

“Wha- What?” His voice cracked, rusty with disuse, and he nearly swallowed his tongue clearing his throat to speak. He tried again. “What do you want?” It came off pleading when he meant defiant, but really, he deserved some credit for not begging for his life. 

“I’m glad you asked, Peter. I want _you_.” The hand left his hair, and he moaned at the loss of a physical anchor to the world. “And you want me too.” The hand was back, tracing from his ear down his collarbone and along one of his shoulders. He shuddered and gasped at the touch. 

“You have me, you got me. What more is there?” He heard more than saw the smirk and huff of laughter, and jerked with his whole body when he felt the warm mouth against the pulse point on his wrist. “Oh. OH. No! No, no no no please no.” He wasn’t making sense. He arched into the gentle touch even as he protested. 

A chuckle, and the strap holding his left wrist loosened until his arm was free. Still weak, he could barely move beyond the range of movement the strap afforded. He flexed and tried to bring the arm to his chest, but before he could another set of hands captured his. His arm was pulled against a warm chest, bent gently at the elbow. He groaned in pleasure, sighing and letting the sensation of being touched wash over him. Warmth, human warmth, plus the firm solid texture of – skin – under his hands couldn't stop his body relaxing at the feeling.

He shuddered, hand flexing against bare skin, and realized Mysterio was shirtless. His eyes snapped open, fixing on the man standing over him. To Peter's eyes, the man wore his regalia, stupid cloak flapping in the mist.

“No. You’re not- no.” Mysterio chuckled again, and his fingernails bit into Peter’s skin. He wanted to be disgusted, to draw up some outrage, but all he could feel was the warm fire in his belly that happened when he thought about MJ. He saw her killed a hundred times now. 

“I’m not what? Come on Peter, use your words.” The taunt was jovial, and Peter tried, _really_ tried, to do what he should. To tell Mysterio to fuck off.

“You’re not, I need to see you. Please. I just want to see how you actually look.” With two hand gestures, the silly suit was gone, and Beck stood before him, shirtless and still holding his arm close. He wore low-slung jeans, at least, and Peter couldn’t see shoes or not.

With his free arm, Peter reached and ran his fingertips across the shoulder blade under his hand, gently tracing the dips and planes of skin. Sparks of electricity shot through him and he stilled, trying to calm down. This was the most he trusted anything about his environment since he was caught. The swirling mists remained, secondary to the man in front of him.

“Yes, Peter?”

“You’re really here. You’re not an illusion.” Beck shook his head, smirking.

“Yes. But a hologram would say the same thing.” Peter’s fingers became bolder, tracing down one arm and twining fingers together. He marveled at the feeling of skin on skin.

“You couldn’t fake this. Drones can do a lot, but they can’t fake being a human being, not yet. The terminator doesn’t come back from the future until 2029.” Beck grinned, looking him up and down appraisingly.

“Well said.” He pulled at the hand he still held, tugging not unkindly. “Now. I have a proposal for you.” Peter was silent, waiting. “If you promise not to try to escape, I’ll unbind your other arm and your legs for a bit. Let you move around. But you can’t try anything. I know how you think, and I know you’ll do anything to save lives.” Peter didn’t react but let himself take a deep breath. “I’ve got a dozen or so random targets around the globe, people you’ve never met going about their lives. If you try to escape, my drones will kill them. Even if I die. Now, you don’t want that blood on your hands, do you?” Peter shook his head, feeling numb. He didn’t want any of this.

“I won’t try anything. I promise.” That earned another smile, smaller this time but still warm.

“I know. You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” It should have made his skin crawl, but the promise in the other man’s voice sent shivers to his toes instead, sparking a pool of heat near his navel. He could be good. He could.

“Yes. Please, I- I don’t want to hurt anyone.” More than that, he wanted to be _good_.

“You’re already doing so well.” One finger traced his palm, running along the veins on the underside of his wrist up to his elbow and lingering there. “I’m releasing your other arm.” The click and hiss of the restraints came right before the tension on his other arm relaxed, and he pulled experimentally. He freed his arm with a tug, and curled it protectively back towards himself. A hand caught his wrist, and then held both together, one large hand encircling his wrists easily. Quentin’s other hand reached out, fiddling with the side of whatever he was strapped down on, and the bed moved. It shifted until he was in a reclined position, hands gathered in his lap. Beck rubbed small circles into his arms as the feeling rushed back to them, blood thumping after being held down so long.

Peter felt very small with both wrists still loosely gripped in Beck’s hand, gentle soothing motions designed to relax poured along his skin. His eyes fluttered closed and then snapped open, not trusting anything but the feel of skin on his and the sight of Beck standing there, hair mussed and chest contracting and expanding with more labored motion than usual. He wasn’t perfect, so he was real. Peter let the feeling wash over him, not giving up one second of the one real thing in his universe. This moment wasn’t in his head.

He only realized he moved when he nearly fell off the edge of the bed. It still looked like nothing to him, like he floated in midair. But he realized as he caught himself it must be a surgical table or something, to move and have restraints built in. He was nose-to-chest with Beck, and leaned towards the man without conscious effort.

“You’re very eager, I’ll give you that.” Beck's voice rumbled in his ear and Peter gave in to temptation. He licked, one soft touch of tongue to warm skin that left the hairs standing on end. He breathed out and drew back. The other man tasted like salt and sweat and _human_. The hand around his wrists tightened and loosened in the span of a breath. Two more motions flowed through the air from Back’s other hand, too quick to follow, and the restraints on his legs melted away, releasing him fully for the first time in a very long time. Peter nearly sobbed, and he turned bodily to Beck now, arms surging around the other man. He felt the muscles under his arms stretch and tense up accordingly, prepared to fight or flee from an attack. When Beck realized there was nothing super about the strength in the arms around him, he raised his own and slid them around Peter, pressing the two even tighter together.

There was the distant sound of someone sobbing, drawing in deep shuddering breaths, and Peter realized belatedly the sound came from him. His face pressed into Beck’s chest and hands held him there tight. Beck was warm. And soft. And he ran his hands over Peter’s back. Peter was only sort of aware that he too was shirtless. Hands pressed into his skin, murmured words mumbled into his shoulder blade, and he stopped shaking after a while.

When he was quiet for a minute or two, he realized the hands drawing idle patterns over his back had drifted lower. One hand ghosted over the edge of his pants and he twitched, a whole bodily jerk made without his express approval. He felt a featherlight kiss pressed to a spot at the base of his shoulder.

Lips drifted lazily across his skin, and Peter shuddered. He shouldn’t want this, it was just because he was touch starved and half out of his mind, but a flare of _need_ sparked inside him and he gasped.

“Now, Peter.” Beck chuckled, letting the words drift across his skin. Peter reacted to the promise in his voice, letting out a breath and tightening his hold on the man in front of him. "Do you feel better?” Peter nodded, the movement causing skin to slide against skin. “Good. I’m glad.” The hands at his back grew bolder, dipping briefly into his waistband and trailing over the skin there before moving back up.

Peter whined at the light touch. “Please. Please I - I need more.” Beck’s hands bit into his skin, a sharp pain contrasting the loving touches. Gasping, Peter arched into the touch. It was wrong but he panted, shifting as his pants tightened. A responding hardness shifted against him, where he awkwardly pressed against the other man’s torso and legs.

“You can have more Peter, all you have to do is ask.” The hands kneaded now, grabbing at his ass and pulling him nearly off the bed. He whimpered and turned his head, searching out the other man’s mouth. He needed confirmation this wasn’t just inside his own head.

The press of lips against his own was solid and real, wet and warm and a little chapped and something not faked with technology. He parted his kips and Beck took the upper hand, tongue finding his own and dominating his mouth, pressing tighter against him even as he pulled their bodies closer together.

Beck broke the kiss, panting slightly. Peter tried to follow him, but the other man’s height allowed him to avoid it easily.

“Peter, Peter. Hey.” Peter groaned, unwilling to let Beck put an inch more space between them. “Hey. Stop. You want to be good, don’t you?” He nodded, and let Beck pull back a bit, only long enough to grab something from behind him and turn to face Peter once more. Peter let himself be moved and Beck pushed so he lay back on the reclining bed, legs falling open. Beck lifted himself up easily and positioned his body over Peter’s, leaning forward to capture his lips in another kiss.

Peter knew it was wrong, Stockholm Syndrome or something but he didn’t care - he pressed against hot skin, the weight of someone against him, and he couldn’t get enough. He scrambled as Beck pushed him down, hands trying to find purchase and legs coming up to wrap around Beck’s waist, pulling him closer. The brush of Beck’s erection against his own was like fire – sending warm sparks up his spine and making him need everything Beck gave him.

They kissed hungrily for a few minutes, hands wandering and touching. Peter broke the kiss and leaned his head back as Beck sucked marks into the skin of his neck that would heal before this finished. “More, I need - I need. Please.”

Beck leaned back enough to make eye contact and grinned at him. “I know, don’t worry. You’ll get everything, and you’ll love it, won’t you?” Peter nodded helplessly. “I knew you’d be so good for me, you were crying out for someone to own you. You need this, need someone to take you in hand.” Peter couldn’t find the strength to be mad, Beck was right and he knew it. He was drifting and unsure of everything, and he needed someone to tell him what to do. Someone to say it was okay to lose.

A shifting of Beck’s hips signaled the end of the discussion, and Peter’s own hips jerked up in response, jolting against the friction on his dick. It was too much and not nearly enough at the same time.

Beck’s hands moved from his chest to his pants, tugging at the waistband and pulling them smoothly off Peter’s body, leaving no room for argument. Peter got his hands to the front of Beck’s jeans and stilled momentarily. He hesitated for the briefest second but when a rough palm gripped him and tugged, he arched into the touch and gasped, hands shaking as he pulled at Beck’s jeans, trying to get them off.

After a bit of fumbling, he undid the fly and got his hand inside the other man’s jeans, pulling him out and pushing at the pants until they pooled around his knees. Peter kept his eyes open, not wanting to miss anything, and watched his own hand, smaller than Beck’s, pumping hesitantly up and down the man’s length. The contrast was exquisite torture, and he gasped at the strange sensation. He was unused to the angle, having only previously touched himself.

“I need- come on, please.” Instead of giving him what he wanted, Beck released him and he groaned, agonized with the loss. Before he had much time to protest, Beck moved, stripping Peter out of his pants and kicking his own jeans to the floor smoothly. Beck hovered over him for a second, the look in his eyes softer than Peter expected. “Please. I need more.”

“Come on Peter, use your words. What do you want?” Beck leaned back as he talked, grabbing what he had gotten earlier and opening it. Peter focused on the bottle for a moment, taking in the label and hearing the soft pop of the lid opening.

“Oh- oh. I need, I need more. Touch me, please, I need to feel you.” Beck poured some of the lube onto his hand and coated his fingers with it. Peter wouldn’t say he never considered doing something like this, but he didn’t think this would be how he tried it.

Beck closed the lid of the tube and put it down. His hand moved lazily down Peter’s thigh, leaving a light trail of lube as he moved his fingers towards where Peter needed him to touch. “Have you ever-?” Peter could feel himself flushing, face burning red even as he shook his head no.

“Not- not with anyone else.” The hand on his thigh paused, and he earned a wicked grin from Beck even as he moved towards his goal again.

“But you tried it yourself? Thought about someone throwing your legs over their shoulders and _taking_ without you having a say?” Peter moaned, his eyes lidded at the image. He knew it was wrong, he shouldn’t want someone else to do what they wanted to him, and with his strength it would be nearly impossible for anyone to do it anyway. But here he was, exhausted and half out of his mind and begging for it so hard he would explode if he didn’t get more of the hands drawing lazy circles around his hip.

“Please, I need you, please.” Beck grinned.

“I’m right here, all you have to do is ask.” Peter clenched his hands into fists, unwilling to make eye contact with the other man even as the words tumbled out of his mouth without his permission.

“Please fuck me. I need you inside of me, please, please right now, I need it.” That was all Mysterio was waiting for, apparently, and he leaned over and licked one long stripe up Peter’s dick even as his fingers finally found their destination, gently trailing over Peter’s hole. Peter gasped at the dual sensation, legs falling open even as he fought to keep his eyes open and tell himself it was really happening. One finger pushed at him and he felt himself relax, legs opening wider to give the other man better access. Beck pushed inside and Peter squirmed, unsure of the sensation at first and then once the moment was over, he pushed back against Beck’s hand, trying to get more friction. “Ah, please. More, more more moremoremore-“ With admirable precision, Beck fucked him with one and then two fingers, scissoring them and pushing against Peter’s walls to stretch him.

“God, you’re so tight. I’m not sure I’ll even fit, you’re so, ah-“ Beck lost some of the steely control in his voice and sucked a mark into the skin of Peter’s hip even as he used his other hand to hold Peter’s hips down.

He added a third finger, pushing in and out as Peter slowly went insane with need. “I’m ready, I’m good, please. Fuck me.” Peter’s voice cracked as he talked. Beck accepted the statement and pulled his hand away. Peter keened at the loss.

In a few seconds, though, Beck moved, positioning himself against Peter and lining up to push inside. When he put on a condom and slicked himself up, Peter didn’t know, but he didn’t care as every thought vanished from his mind at the first press against his body. Beck pushed in, uncaring for Peter’s wince at the intrusion and not stopping his slow, steady pressure until he was fully seated.

He paused, breathing heavily and leaning his forehead against Peter’s. Peter angled his face up and tried to capture Beck’s lips, but Beck chose that moment to move and Peter’s control over his muscles deserted him. He collapsed back against the bed, gasping, as Beck pulled out half an inch and slammed back in, pushing even deeper than before.

“Oh oh ohohohohoh-“ Peter heard himself babbling but couldn’t stop, the feel of slick and pressure and so full inside shorting out this brain. His hands scrabbled at Beck’s back, unsure of where to hold on, and his legs wrapped around the other man, pulling him closer with every thrust.

Stars exploded in front of his eyes, and Peter had one thought running through his mind, even wordless with pleasure. _This is real, this is happening_. The thought grounded him even as he soared to new heights, and he held on for dear life.

“God, you’re so tight.” Beck’s voice sounded as uneven as Peter felt, and he reached one hand between them to grip Peter’s dick. Peter tried to bat him away but couldn’t, Beck just kept touching him and brushed Peter’s hands away. It took only a few seconds until Peter was coming, arching up and crying out as his vision whited out.

The feel of Peter coming around him pushed Beck over the edge, and it was only two or three seconds before he came as well, pushing deep and shuddering, dropping his head to Peter’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a few moments, neither moving. Eventually, Beck lifted his head from Peter’s shoulder, and pulled out sharply. Peter keened at the sudden empty feeling, and Beck’s laugh was not unkind even as he pulled off the condom with practiced movements and tied it off, throwing it somewhere Peter couldn’t see.

“Well, Peter, I knew you had it in you.” His voice was laced with something sharp, biting, even as he gently ran a hand over Peter’s ankle, fingers trailing around the bone. “I should have known how easy you’d be, I could have been doing this ages ago.” Peter shuddered, not liking the tone in Beck’s voice.

Beck pulled back and snagged his jeans, pulling them on without looking at Peter. Peter tried to sit up, to say something, but Beck’s hand on his chest pushed him back down. He was still so drained that he didn’t fight the touch, just let himself stay down. Before he knew what was happening, his wrists were out on either side of him again, and the restraints held him tight.

Peter squirmed, disliking the feeling of having his wrists restrained even more than before, especially since his legs were still free and he was still naked, his ass sticky with lube and sweat.

Beck bent and picked up the soft pants Peter had been wearing, and held them up. “You don’t have to put these on if you don’t want, but if you want to be wearing them, I’m putting them on you. Try to kick me and you’ll be restrained without them.” Peter nodded and meekly let Beck pull the pants up his legs, squirming at the lack of underwear and the feeling of lube cooling on his skin.

Beck helped him into the pants quickly, and then pulled one leg and then the other straight, setting the restraints up again and then letting go. Peter was as fully immobile as he had been before, and he hated it. He flexed, testing the restraints at his hands, and found no give whatsoever.

“Now now Peter, no trying to get out.” Peter looked up at the man standing over him, and grimaced. They were back to enemies again, apparently. Not that they had been anything but, in the last however long, but Peter now knew uncomfortably how it felt to have his enemy’s dick inside him and what it was like to come around him so hard he lost feeling in his hands and feet. “Aww, look at you. You look thoroughly fucked out.” A hand ran through his hair, ostensibly fixing it but really just mussing it even further. Peter hated himself for leaning into the touch, aching for more human contact.

“You’re such a slut, aren’t you? God, I should really have known, this is why you hung around Stark, isn’t it? You just need someone to take care of you and leave you fucked open all the time, ready for another round.” Peter opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it when the hand in his hair gripped tight and forced his head around to look Beck in the eyes. “Maybe I should make sure you’re thinking of me, next time. Leave you here with a vibrator in your ass while you’re waiting for me, so whenever I feel like it, I can just slide right in, no waiting for you to be _ready_.” He sneered, and Peter tried not to react even as he felt his heartbeat speeding up and his breath coming quicker.

It was so wrong, but it was so right. Exactly what Peter always secretly wanted, needed, but not like this. He knew it wasn’t up to him, however, and so he let himself drift as Beck walked away, hologram suit already restored. Peter knew he wasn’t getting out, and he took the one spot of comfort in the darkness even as he cursed himself for not resisting harder. He knew one thing, however, no matter how much he told himself he didn’t want it, he would beg and plead every time Beck came to him because it was one thing he knew was real, and grounded him like nothing else in this new world of swirling mists and demons.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing, please consider buying me a coffee to let me know! :) https://ko-fi.com/sweetesthoney
> 
> I help run a discord dedicated to MCU rarepairs and thirst (lol), and everyone is welcome! Please feel free to join us: https://discord.gg/uTpcTaW

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [In Progress](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19940248) by [tfwfangirlsatk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfwfangirlsatk/pseuds/tfwfangirlsatk)




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